No one sees, how shaky my knees...

On Sunday G drove me to Birmingham to pick up my large drawing from Gas Hall. The guy who handed my picture over said that about 20 or so pictures had sold altogether, so I was very lucky in selling mine. He said 'we all liked this one,' re: my large pen and ink drawing. Which was very nice of him. But then again, he probably says that to all the artists.

The next West Midlands Open will be held in 2 years time at Wolverhampton art gallery, and will be back in Birmingham, all being well, in 4 years time. I was told 'there are lots of opens to enter'. Which is true, but my problem at the moment is that now I'm working full-time I can't make many of the handing in dates because I'm working, or if I can hand in, I can't collect, and the galleries seem to be inflexible regarding pick ups and deliveries. G's doing me a huge favour tommorow in picking up my drawing from The Waterside Open, which is finished now, and the gallery wouldn't hold onto my drawing for another week so I could fetch it next week. All in all it's very difficult for artists to enter opens if A. They don't drive (like me) and B they work for an employer (like me also).

Some more progress of my 2 colour pieces. The small blossom picture is finished...


But the larger one is still a work in progress. A frustrating one too. I started off liking parts of it, but then made the fatal error of asking my Mum what she thought. After a moment's silence she said, 'I don't like it, it's blobby.'


So I'm now trying to unblobby it. I knew there were problems but I've got so little time at the moment, and I've invested quite a bit in this one. I'm loathe to discard it yet.


On our way home from Birmingham on Sunday G drove us to Tanworth-in-Arden where Nick Drake has a memorial stone. I think he was cremated and his ashes scattered, I'm not sure where. I've been listening to lots of Nick Drake lately, I find his music both mesmerising, comforting and discomforting. A glorious combination.

OPEN NIGHT

G drove me to Birmingham last night to see the West Midlands Open which is being held at Gas Hall. Unfortunately (incredibly) it took me an hour and 40 minutes to travel the 8 miles to Birmingham via bus then car and we arrived just as the prize giving and speeches had finished. There was a good atmosphere at the open night though and we spent an hour looking at the art and soaking up the buzz which was quite literal as Gas Hall is one of those big, hollow buildings with fuzzy acoustics. The combination of chatter, clinking glasses and shuffling feet made a drone like an engine ticking over.

I was surprised at the amount of photography on show, one of which picked up first prize, I think possibly because it lends itself to a particular wry, sardonic, post-modern approach which is popular here. Generally though the West Midlands Open has a generously broad interpretation of the word 'contemporary', hung on the walls and boards, and displayed on podiums throughout the gallery are delicate etchings, pencil drawings, vast oil paintings, humorous 3D works, stylish and intelligent photography, witty assemblages, amusing video and film pieces. The overall impression is of a vibrant, varied, occasionally quirky creative scene.

My own personal favourites included the huge and breathtaking pastel portrait by Oliver Jones, I'd seen his work last year at the RBSA. To use pastel on this scale is a tremendous achievement. I also loved the 2 oil paintings on paper by Lois Wallace, beautiful sombre compositions with gorgious textural values and extremely subtle psychological overtones suggestive of something just about to happen, or the significance of a moment when something hasn't yet happened.

I recognised a few artists from the RBSA including Brian Fletcher who exhibited a very nice pencil self-portrait and a beautiful colourful and textural oil painting of a derelict building frontage.

Gas Hall is a splendid venue for art, and I'm really proud to have a piece included in this exhibition. I'm hoping to pay it a second visit and hopefully take in Bridget Riley at the nearby Waterhall at the same time. There was so much impressive, large scale, slick artwork, really grand pieces, I couldn't help feeling self-conscious about my own pieces which seemed a bit pale by comparison. It's always the same for me, every time I have an artwork on display or a poem or story published I get that feeling, like catching sight of yourself in a shop window and cringing at your total ordinariness.

I'm very lucky to have work in this exhibition. But I need to shake off that shop window feeling now, or I might never be able to make another drawing again.